Sacrifices
by LNicol1990
Summary: After a painful goodbye at the Landsmeet, Erin's companions discover exactly what she is willing to sacrifice, for Ferelden and for love. DISCONTINUED
1. The long Goodbye

Author's note: This chapter is the Landsmeet dialogue with description. The main story is going to be in the following chapters. I hope you enjoy.

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"I underestimated you, Warden," Loghain admitted, kneeling in defeat. "I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play war. I was wrong. There is a strength in you that I have not seen since Maric died. I yield."

Erin Cousland sheathed her dual swords, wiping the sweat off her brow as she lowered her hands. Her slender form trembled as she fought to calm her jagged breathing.

The duel had been a violent one. Erin had been forced to move very quickly to avoid Loghain's vicious swipes at her stomach. She had attacked him in a flurry of movement; most of her blows had bounced off his armour, and then retreated before he could retaliate. She had used her knowledge of poisons well, using bombs to not only weaken him, but to make quick escapes when the air was covered in mist. The last of the venom was falling from her blades.

During the fight, she had seen glimpses of Alistair reaching for his sword on more than one occasion, either to throw it to her, or to enter the fray himself. Then it would seem that he remembered what the duel meant, and would reluctantly lower his hand.

Erin had finally managed to disarm Loghain with a wild swipe kick. It had been intended for either the man's face or... more delicate areas, but she instead made contact with his wrist. His blade had gone sailing into the air, and Erin used the distraction to flank him, kick the backs of his legs in and then drew her blades to a scissor hold about his neck once he was on his knees.

Panting as furiously as she was, and seeing himself defenceless, Loghain called out.

"I accept your surrender," she announced quietly, still breathless. She nodded slowly, her single braid swaying as she moved her head.

"I didn't just hear you say that," Alistair objected, shock and outrage was evident in his voice. "You're going to let him live?! After everything he's done? Kill him already!"

"Wait! There is another option," Riordan interjected, approaching everyone from the doorway from which he had watched the duel.

Alistair's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had a very good idea what the Orlesian was about to propose, and he didn't like it one bit. A glance from Erin showed that she too knew what was about to be said. He had to admit that her calm expression was more than a little unsettling.

"The teyrn is a warrior and a General of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining," Riordan offered.

"Would that even work?" Erin asked, shooting Loghain a distrustful glance. "He's not exactly loyal to us."

"What does loyalty matter? We are what we are," Riordan shrugged. "The Joining binds us to the darkspawn. You know this. If you were to forswear your oath and leave today, you'd find yourself in the Deep Roads or the Blight Lands, given time. You'd seek them out, or they'd seek you."

"The Joining is often fatal, is it not?" Anora asked lightly. "If he survives, you gain a general, if not you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

Alistair looked from Anora to Riordan and then to Loghain, finally resting on Erin, _his_ Erin. Her face showed that she was giving the proposition serious thought. He couldn't believe that she was even considering allowing Loghain take the Joining. He knew he had to speak, remind them of what this man had done, and bring them to their senses.

"Absolutely not!" he shouted, making Erin flinch in surprise. "Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like animals! He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?!"

Erin turned to face him slightly. Her blue eyes were a startling contrast to her skin, still pale despite the months since Ostagar. However, the most startling thing was the determination that shone from within those blue fires, and it was against him.

"Riordan has a point, we should put him through the Joining," Erin stated with an unbreakable calm, as she always did when he became emotional.

"Joining the Wardens is an honour, not a punishment!" Alistair argued. "Name him a Warden and you cheapen us all! I will **not** stand next to him as a brother. I won't!"

"So that's it? You or him?" She asked.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly as she spoke, but her eyes were telling him a different story. To him, they were telling him how foolish she thought he was being... juvenile.

"He's being childish," Anora interjected, picking up on that vibe. "How many generals do you think Ferelden **has**? We can't afford to lose one of them to Alistair's tantrum if we want to survive the Blight."

"Oh, but we can afford lose a king?" Alistair countered. "And the entire army who was abandoned at Ostagar? Whose tantrums cost us to lose all that, I wonder?"

He looked over and saw that nothing he had said had swayed anybody. He had somewhat expected Riordan to stand with Joining Loghain, and Anora would want her father to live. Erin was the one he needed to agree with him. If she stood with him, then everyone would follow, just like through the past months.

But, her eyes were turning cold. She was distancing herself from this... from him. She was going to let Loghain live.

"I didn't want to be king. I still don't. But..." Alistair steeled himself for what he was about to say. "If that's what it takes to see Loghain get justice, then I'll do it. I'll take the crown!"

"Listen to this!" Anora shrieked in amazement, though Alistair figured he could hear a hint of panic. "Can't you see how disastrous a king he'd be, putting his own selfish desires above the needs of the country. You can't seriously support him."

Erin blinked and looked to Anora. She did nothing but stare at the woman for a moment. She turned her head towards Riordan, though the fellow Warden did not speak. Loghain returned her gaze, content, understanding and unafraid, when she faced him.

She finally looked back to Alistair. Their eyes connected, as they had done on countless times, but there was no familiar feeling in the silent moment between them. Erin's eyes were cold, calculating, and impartial.

Alistair's silent pleas for support were not going to touch her. She was going to decide with that detached perspective that she somehow possessed.

"You're right," Erin concurred finally, turning back to Anora. "Anora, take the crown."

"You're siding with her?" demanded Alistair, his angry tone hiding the pain that was threatening to strangle him. "How could you do this to me? You of all people?"

Erin cocked her head in his direction, looking at him from the corner of her eye. How many times had she done that to spare him the brunt of an angry face? He'd lost count.

"I'm trying to do what's best for Ferelden," she stated bluntly.

"This isn't just about kingship," Alistair protested, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

His shoulders sagged as he realised that her face was only tightening. Her body was tensing and her chest was still as she held her breath. Her hands were shaking as she tried to remain composed.

"I guess I always knew I didn't deserve happiness," he conceded sadly. "I just... didn't expect you to agree. Especially in front of all of Ferelden."

"That's not true!" Erin objected.

She turned to face him fully. Her eyes sparked with a passion, but she quenched it before Alistair could tell what it was for. She was chewing her lip and trembling from head to toe.

She was such a fighter, trying not to give in to any weakness, trying to be brave, strong. It was one of the many reasons that he loved her as deeply as he did. It was surreal to see this characteristic of hers being used on him. Surreal and all the more painful.

"Isn't it? I don't know. I'm not sure what's true anymore," he murmured quietly. "All I know is that I can't let this pass. Not and still live with myself. I guess I don't have any choice, do I? I'm leaving."

"I'm afraid it's not so simple as that, Alistair," Anora piped, breaking the eye contact between the two Wardens.

"You already got what you wanted," Alistair shot at her spitefully. "Your murdering father gets a place in the Grey Wardens. What else could you want from me?"

"Your life, unfortunately," she replied calmly. "As long as you still live, rebellions can be raised in your name. Our land cannot endure another civil war. I must call for your execution."

Erin took a step towards Anora. She also blocked Loghain from him, intentionally or not. If he was going to strike Loghain, he would first have to strike her down. Even as the woman was shredding his heart, he couldn't raise a hand against her. By doing nothing, he'd still have the tattered ribbons of himself when she was done. If he hurt her at all, he knew he wouldn't even have that much left.

"No. You owe me a boon. Let him go, Anora," Erin muttered to the woman, though Alistair had given up trying to discern her emotions.

"This is what you would ask?" Anora questioned, astonished at the request.

Erin didn't turn to glance at Alistair, as he had hoped. Her red hair swayed as she nodded in confirmation.

"Very well. Though, I think it a mistake," Anora agreed reluctantly before turning to the Templar. "Alistair, you may leave on condition that you swear before this Landsmeet that you renounce all claim to the throne for yourself and all your heirs."

"That's what it'll take, huh?" Alistair shrugged resentfully. "Fine. I don't want anything to do with this place or any of you people. Ever. I swear it."

He was about to walk away when he noticed Erin was looking at him, again. She had given him little in saving him from execution, and he had been content to leave with that as his last memory of her. However, she looked like there was still something she wanted to say, and he decided that he'd beat her to it this time.

"I... I guess this is goodbye. I had no idea it would end this way for us," he noted dejectedly.

"Don't go," she spoke though her tone betrayed the fact that they both knew there was nothing either of them could do to resolve this.

"This wasn't my idea. I had these dreams..."

He trailed off as she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. She was cringing at his words, she didn't need to hear them, and she didn't want to hear them. They were nothing more than a bitter reminder of what they were losing.

"They don't matter now. Take care of yourself."

Erin raised her head in time to see Alistair walk out of the Landsmeet chamber. She saw Duncan's shield resting on his back, a gift she had given him moments before they had come to the Landsmeet.

He had been surprised that she had remembered him mentioning that he'd had nothing of Duncan's to remind himself of the man. It had made him all the happier when she assured him that she remembered every conversation between them, before he realised that also meant his embarrassing attempts at being suave. Then he had blushed as he always did when he got self-conscious.

She would never see that blush again.

Erin heard Anora addressing the nobles of the Landsmeet. She thought her name was mentioned, but she didn't pay attention. She was just waiting for the meeting to be over. She'd let Riordan take care of Loghain's Joining.

She had other things that she needed to do.


	2. Chosen Sacrifices

Author's note: I don't usually go above 3,000 words, but I didn't really want to edit anything out. It's a shame that you don't get any reaction from your party when Alistair leaves, I thought Morrigan would have said something at least. And here's Erin's reaction... enjoy!

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The walk back to Arl Eamon's estate was a long one. Erin was walking a few steps in front of Sten and Morrigan, just like she always did. The small distance, however, was not great enough for her to avoid listening to Morrigan's mainly one sided conversation with Sten. As much as she tried to block out the words, they still came, clear as day.

The apostate's chosen topic was none other than Alistair's departure, and Erin's cold treatment of him in the Landsmeet. She was picking out every annoying thing that he'd done, everything that she disliked about him, and expressing how glad she was that he was finally gone.

Sten was keeping his opinions to himself, much to Erin's gratitude. He made a few attempts at killing the conversation, before realising that Morrigan wasn't going to shut up. He answered her questions in that ambiguous fashion of his, often giving one word answers.

They had reached the market district before Morrigan finally changed the topic slightly, though it was still one the Erin wanted to avoid: Loghain. She was summing him up, like she had Alistair, listing her perceptions of his qualities. Her general approval of the man could not be any more evident.

Erin pushed the doors to Eamon's estate open and walked through, not waiting for her two companions. She ignored Wynne's concerned face as she passed through the entry hall and into the great hall. She pulled a chair out from a nearby table and was about to sit down when she heard the elder mage ask about the Landsmeet.

"Oh, 'twas most interesting," Morrigan announced immediately in a jovial tone. "Anora was left on the throne, Loghain is to become a Grey Warden, and that fool Alistair has finally left. 'Tis most foolish of him to abandon us simply because Erin allowed Loghain to live, but there you have it. I'm sure Loghain will be a vast improvement over Alistair's company, though that is not saying much."

Erin gripped the chair back so hard that her knuckles turned white and painful. She whipped round to face Morrigan, chair still in hand. A scream left her lips as she launched the chair at the woman.

All the colour drained from Morrigan's face as she saw four chair legs approaching her at a startling rate, the rest of the chair not far behind. As much as she knew she should move, her mind went blank and her legs set like stone. All she could do was slacken her jaw in horror as her doom came hurtling towards her.

It was then that a pair of large, muscular arms wound themselves around her waist. She felt a tugging sensation that she did not have the will to resist. She allowed herself to be pulled away until she found herself staring at the archway between the two halls.

The chair practically exploded as it hit the floor where Morrigan had been standing mere moments prior. The crashing and splintering of wood echoed about the place, fragments flying in all directions. The trio managed to protect themselves from any crippling injuries as they cowered on either side of the arch. None of them dared to look in to see what new improvised weapon Erin had added to her arsenal.

There was another scream and the sound of something else being thrown, probably another chair judging by the scraping sound. By the surprised and slightly terrified cries in the direction of the library, it sounded that Leliana and Zevran had taken concerned interest in Erin's behaviour, only to become her next target. The crashing of another chair and the subsequent groan and crash of a bookcase proved this assumption correct.

Erin had thrown the only two items nearest her, and even in her rage, she knew she couldn't pick up and throw the table. She wasn't interested in overturning it either. She wanted to throw things, anything, it didn't matter what it was so long as she could throw it.

"You practising to be a berserker?" came a gruff voice in the direction of the dining room.

Erin whirled round to see Oghren leaning against a doorpost, his arms folded over his chest. He was watching her with a serious expression. His eyes were racking over her as if he was taking in her method, her performance.

"The rage is there, sure..." he continued, shifting his weight slightly. "But you're holding back, even when you're screaming. You need to give up that finesse and give it your all. Come on, let it out. Give me your best shot."

His calm demeanour and surprisingly subtle mockery of her made her chest swell as if someone had turned her into a walking bomb. Her mind started buzzing and tension wound up every muscle in her body. Everything in her was waiting on a trip-spring. She didn't move, could hardly breathe.

"Come on!" Oghren goaded, sensing that she just need one more little push.

She grabbed the small axe on her belt and flung it at his head with all her strength. She saw him duck the axe easily, which embedded itself in the doorpost. Her vision misted over as he started to smirk.

"You can do better than that," he laughed.

She screamed at his words, her throat felt as if she was tearing it out. She grabbed the hilts of her dual longswords and pulled them out of her back scabbard. She didn't rush him, that wasn't the point of the whole exercise. She threw the swords at him, the silverite blades singing as they sliced through the air.

Oghren ducked out of hall at that. Erin could hear him calling congratulations at 'getting there', but she wasn't paying attention.

Sharp pain broke into her mind from her knees as the strength in her legs gave out and she fell to the granite floor. She gasped at the air, which suddenly seemed so thin. Her body was trembling with the exertion, breaking into shudders as air entered brokenly her lungs. Her eyes were blurring as unshed tears swelled up. She lowered her head and doubled over until her forehead rested on the stone.

She closed her eyes and prayed to see darkness. Images of Alistair flashed into her mind's eye. His smile, the spark in his eyes as he spoke, his slightly worried expression as he proclaimed his love for her, the fineness of his body of their first time, they all came to her. And then, the not so pleasant images graced her vision; his grief straight after Ostagar, his rage in the Landsmeet at Loghain's survival, and the utter despair when she turned against him, the light that died in him.

Hot tears burned from her eyes, searing her cheeks. Her crying escaped in strained hiccups, and she held her sides as they started to ache and cramp.

From the entrance hall, Wynne, Sten and Morrigan watched their fearless leader cry in the epicentre of destruction, her violent rampage seemingly over. Wynne's face was crumpled in sympathy at the sight of such anguish. Sten, while confused at her behaviour, had to admit that he had underestimated the woman's strength. Morrigan, also, did not understand why Erin was so upset, as she had acted so calmly during the Landsmeet.

"Is she alright?" Leliana asked worriedly, panting slightly.

The trio looked over to her. Indeed, the bard was struggling to catch her breath and sweat lay in beads on her brow. Her legs were trembling slightly.

Arl Eamon walked through the doorway, having taken one of the side entrances in. Everyone quickly realised that, the moment Erin had thrown her fit, Leliana had left the estate and had raced to find the arl. Obviously she believed that the man could either explain or help in some way. Failing that, this was his estate and he probably wouldn't take its destruction favourably.

"I think she's calmed down a bit," Wynne replied quietly, not wanting to risk Erin hearing.

"Indeed... crawling up into a ball and crying is a vast improvement from trying to kill anything that breathes," Morrigan quipped sarcastically from the other side of the arch.

Arl Eamon stepped forward and cautiously peered into the room. Shock entered his face as he observed the chaos, but he quickly smoothed his expression over and walked into the room. He could feel the anxious eyes of Erin's companions watching his every move.

Erin stilled as he approached her. He didn't kneel down beside her, but stood silently. He waited patiently as she composed herself. He could hear her breathing deeply, trying to calm herself.

Finally, she raised her head to look up at him. Her eyes were red from tears and her face was flushed. A slight tremor twitched on her lips. There was such a broken look to her, Eamon didn't have the heart to speak cruelly to her as he had intended.

She had treated Alistair so coldly in the Landsmeet, Eamon hadn't imagined that she would be so torn up by the result. He had believed that she would shrug at the event and carry on. Looking at her now, he couldn't believe he hadn't been able to see how hard she had fought in the Landsmeet to keep herself from falling apart like she was now.

He knelt beside her and gently, but firmly, grasped her shoulders. He pulled her up as he returned to his feet, and she followed his silent command. When they were both on their feet, Eamon guided her to the back of the hall and towards his study. He felt that she would have a lot that she needed to talk about, and knew that privacy probably wouldn't go unappreciated.

Erin was feeling quite foolish when she sat on the chair Eamon had directed her to. Her antics in the hall were that of a child in a tantrum, not a Grey Warden. She had agreed with Eamon that they would put Alistair on the throne, but she had turned him away, betrayed him. So many things that they had planned, and she had ruined all of them.

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly.

"I never did like that set of chairs," Eamon mentioned lightly. "I've been looking for an excuse to get rid of them."

He returned to her side and offered her a glass of red wine. She laughed slightly for his attempt to lighten the mood. She took the glass gratefully and sipped it, tasting the rich, full body. Feeling slightly more grounded, she breathed in deeply and felt much calmer.

"I'll pay for the damages," she assured him. "How much would that be, fifty sovereigns?"

"You can pay me once we've dealt with the archdemon," he stated kindly.

Erin was silent for a moment. She bowed her head and stared forlornly down at the glass as she swirled the wine gently. Her eyes flittered to different invisible points of interest as she thought of a response.

"That won't be possible, Eamon," she replied, not raising her head. "I won't live to see the end of the Blight."

Eamon frowned concernedly. That had sounded far too pessimistic, and more to the point, far too suicidal for his liking. He was wondering what he could possibly say to rectify Erin's statement when she looked up at him, a calm resignation in her eyes.

"If you remember, last night, I asked Riordan if I could borrow the Grey Warden letters. I've been part of the order for several months, but I hardly know anything about them. I was curious and I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass me by," Erin explained.

She paused to take a couple of mouthfuls of wine, nearly emptying her glass. She nodded as Eamon silently offered the pitcher for a refill. When her glass was once again full, she took a third sip.

"He let me have the letters, even gave me the decryption key," she continued, smiling slightly. "I was up all night, decrypting the letters and reading what they said. There were so many fascinating things in them. Every single one gave me important information, some good... others were not so."

She didn't drink any more from her glass, but she looked off to a distant place that only she could see. Then she blinked and returned to Eamon and his study.

"The Grey Wardens have said that only they can end the Blight, only they can kill the archdemon. A part of me has always wondered what was meant by that," Erin noted lightly. "When I decrypted the answer, I couldn't believe it. I decrypted twice, thinking I'd made a mistake, but I hadn't. I asked Riordan about it this morning. I had hoped that he would smile and tell me that I was wrong... but he didn't."

Eamon's frown deepened. He knew that Erin was going to tell him something that he really wasn't going to like. He moved his own glass from his hands to his desk. He focused on her completely, ensuring that he didn't miss anything she said, lest he make a mistake.

"If a normal person –someone who isn't a Grey Warden– kills the archdemon, its soul, its essence, will leave its body and enter the nearest darkspawn, reincarnating itself. Short of killing every darkspawn in all of Thedas, the archdemon is immortal in this sense," she stated, looking directly into Eamon's eyes, ensuring that he understood what she had said.

He leant back in his chair, letting the shocking information unnerve him for a moment. However, he reminded himself that there had been four Blights previously, so that meant that there was a way to kill the archdemon. He returned his attention to Erin, remembering what she said.

"And what if a Grey Warden kills the archdemon?" he asked.

"A Grey Warden binds themselves to the darkspawn, Riordan said such in the Landsmeet. We take in the taint, and effectively become darkspawn with souls. That's what darkspawn are, you see, they're soulless creatures," Erin explained. "If we kill the archdemon, its soul comes into us. I'm sure any mage can tell you that two souls cannot exist in one body."

Eamon nodded. While he hadn't known that fact, it made sense. However, he could follow her lead up. He could tell where she was going in her description of killing the archdemon, and he felt his heart ache with sympathy.

"The two souls destroy each other," she stated factually. "The Grey Warden dies along with the archdemon."

He closed his eyes as she finished her explanation. A rush of sorrow swept over him, a regret that struck his very core. The cool, detached way she had explained the sacrifice, it made his heart ache.

"Did Alistair know?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at her.

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "I didn't tell him, and he seemed quite optimistic about the battle... so, no. I don't think he knew about it, otherwise he probably wouldn't have left."

Eamon frowned slightly. He was trying to put together what Erin was telling him. Obviously someone, a Grey Warden, would have to sacrifice themselves for the Blight to end. As much as he was trying to understand, he felt that the noblewoman hadn't told him everything.

If Alistair had known about the sacrifice, he probably wouldn't have left. The boy, if Eamon could still call him that, had left because Loghain had been conscripted. Loghain... sacrifice...

"Do you plan on sacrificing Loghain to the archdemon?" he enquired.

"No, Eamon," Erin smiled sadly. "Loghain was nothing more than a way to get Alistair to leave. That man has a lot to redeem himself for, and he can do that by spending the rest of his life rebuilding the order he nearly destroyed."

"Then... what-" Eamon cut himself off, cursing how blind he was, how stupid.

"I love Alistair, more than anything in Thedas," Erin swore. "And, I'm pretty sure he loves me just as much... well, at least until I betrayed him at the Landsmeet. If we were still together, one of us would have to give our life for Ferelden. Whoever died, the other would have to live alone. I'm pretty sure that would crush us, regardless of whether it was me or Alistair."

Eamon nodded understandingly. Alistair had even approached him that morning, asking the arl his opinion of Erin, and whether he thought the two of them were a good match. The Templar had asked Eamon how he should propose to the woman. As good as he was with a weapon, Alistair was fairly hopeless with romance.

"I decided that, as he didn't know about the sacrifice, I'd do anything I could so he'd never find out, even if that meant finding some way to drive him away, losing him" Erin continued. "When Riordan suggested putting Loghain through the Joining, I knew Alistair would object. I knew he wouldn't be able to look past Ostagar, and everything Loghain had done."

Erin stopped. She breathed in as deeply as she could, though the air seemed to be suffocating her. She blinked, and felt a tear run down her face. She was mildly surprised, she'd thought she had shed all her tears.

"Going against him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," she whispered hoarsely.

"You're going to sacrifice yourself," Eamon stated knowingly.

"He'll hurt for a while, but he'll get over it. He'll get over me and move on. I'm sure he'll grieve losing his love for me, but he won't grieve my death... not like he would have done," Erin stated, more tears falling.

"Some wounds aren't quick to heal," Eamon pointed out.

"But they do heal," Erin countered. "He'll have his life, and he'll be able to live it how he wants to."

"What about you?" Eamon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't matter, Eamon," she smiled weakly. "I never did. I'm the last of my bloodline, and with all the nobility in Ferelden, no one's going to miss one teyrn."

Eamon didn't answer her, he couldn't. He had been wrong about her, so very, very wrong. Her love for Alistair was greater than anything in existence, even her own life. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd let all of Thedas burn in order to save him.

Erin raised her glass to her lips and drained the wine from it. She placed the glass on Eamon's desk and stood up. She mentioned that she had to prepare, last minute tasks to do, and other important things that he wasn't listening to. Then she left his study.

Neither of them noticed Zevran bolting back down to the main hall.


	3. Strengthening Resolve

Erin's companions and friends turned to the door as it opened, and Erin walked through. The woman stopped dead as she became the centre of attention. She only had to look at them to know what they had been talking about, and she didn't have to guess the informant. There was only one of her companions who knew the meaning of stealth.

Torgan, her Mabari war hound, padded up to her. He whined sadly at her, even more so when she knelt down to fondle his ears.

"When were you going to tell us?" Wynne asked sadly.

"I wasn't," Erin replied factually. "I didn't want any of you to know that there was the price that I had to pay."

"So, it would be easier for us to know of this once the archdemon was slain and you dead along with it?" Morrigan asked incredulously.

"This must happen for the Blight to end," Erin replied tartly, standing up. "If I must die for that, then so be it!"

"And, if you don't mind my asking," Zevran piped quietly. "What of Loghain? May he not sacrifice himself to the archdemon?"

"You cannot redeem yourself in death, Zevran," Erin answered. "I'm sure I've said this several times. And besides, Loghain may not even survive the Joining."

Everyone turned as the door opened a second time. Anora entered, apparently unaware of the tension in the room. She waited as Erin approached her, but made no effort to keep her voice quiet.

"And so it is done. My father lives, and for good or ill he is now a Grey Warden. Thank you for... giving him the opportunity for going through the ritual. It couldn't have been easy," Anora stated.

"He has a lot to redeem himself for," Erin answered coldly, uncaring that she spoke to the future queen of Ferelden.

"Indeed he does," Anora agreed, her tone indignantly stiff. "Arl Eamon has left for Redcliff, and he tells me that our armies have almost fully gathered there. I will be heading there myself. Bring your companions and join us at Redcliff castle as soon as you are able. You have united Ferelden, Warden... now we face the Blight."

Anora then left the room, and Erin was glad to the see her back. The woman was pompous, and just hearing Anora's voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Erin sighed, looking down to the floor. All of her companions had heard that Loghain lived, and that he was now a candidate for being the sacrifice for the archdemon. But she wouldn't let him, not so long as she was still alive, and they all knew that.

"I've made up my mind," Erin stated dispassionately, turning round to face her friends. "I will strike the archdemon down, and I will be the one to die. This is a suicide mission, but it's my suicide mission. If any of you don't feel this isn't what you want to get yourselves into, I understand. I don't want any of you to suffer this. There are still ships in the docks, I'd suggest you buy yourselves passage out of Ferelden before there are no more tickets. But, if you're going to stay, then get packed. We leave for Redcliff in an hour."

She didn't wait for any answers, but walked out. She paused as she saw Loghain waiting by the stairs before continuing. The man didn't speak as she passed him, to which she was grateful. She was certain that if he had, regardless of topic, she'd have floored him with one punch.

She closed the door to her room and leaned against it. Being for cold to everyone was making her gut twist in many uncomfortable ways. She breathed in deeply and steadied her wavering heart, steeling herself for the next few days.

She was also preparing herself for how few of her friends would be in the entrance. She knew that many did not approve of what she was doing, and she doubted many would want to watch her die.

A knock at her door made her jump a few feet away, to the centre of the room. She opened her knapsack and tossed it onto her bed. She approached her chest and was unlocking it when she called to the knocker, permitting entry.

She pulled out the poultices, blade coatings and various bombs that she had stored and turned to her bed, carefully placing them into her bag. She turned her head towards the door, wondering who had knocked and had not yet spoken.

It was Morrigan. The witch stood quietly, waiting until she had Erin's full attention before speaking. When the noblewoman stopped in her efforts to pack and faced her, she took in a deep breath.

"T'would seem that you are doing a foolish thing," Morrigan stated, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Yeah... I do that a lot, don't I?" Erin asked rhetorically, restarting her packing efforts. "I've made a lot of mistakes, Morrigan, done a lot of foolish things. But I feel like I'm doing it right, this time."

"Sacrificing your life is-"

"Morrigan," Erin interrupted, turning to face the witch. "This is what I have to do. Someone has to die."

"And that need be you?" the witch asked incredulously. "T'would make more sense for Loghain to take the final blow, would it not?"

"There is no redemption in death, I don't know how many times I have to say that before-" she stopped herself, breathing in to calm her temper. "Loghain nearly destroyed the Order. He can redeem himself by rebuilding it."

"Tis not redemption I speak of," Morrigan noted. "He shall not live long, at the age he is. T'would truly be a waste for you to perish, while he can take your place."

Erin was silent as she took in Morrigan's words. She nodded her head slightly, showing that she could understand where the woman was drawing her logic. But she raised her head and returned her gaze to Morrigan, her resolve absolute.

"You still wish to give your life?" Morrigan asked.

"I can't ask this of anyone else... I won't," Erin stated. "I have no right to ask anyone to sacrifice their life for this, no one but myself."

"You cannot ask someone to give their life, but you can decide whether they have the choice, can you not?" Morrigan queried, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Alistair will be alright," Erin replied, catching the hint. "Like this, he'll move on."

"And you shall die," the witch pointed out.

"It's what must be done, Morrigan," Erin reminded her. "Out of everyone in our little party, out of everyone in Ferelden, or even Thedas... I think I'm the one of least worth. It's fitting that I give my life. It's the only thing I can do... the only thing I can do for Alistair."

"You would throw away your life for the fool who abandoned you?" Morrigan asked incredulously.

"Did he abandon us?" Erin asked, ignoring the sting Morrigan's words left on her heart. "Perhaps I made it impossible for him to stay? Perhaps I spared Loghain knowing, full well, that it would drive Alistair away, make him leave Ferelden. Perhaps I wanted him to be away from Ferelden, where he wouldn't have to face the archdemon, where he wouldn't have to either give up his life and leave me alone, or let me take the final blow and be left alone himself."

For a moment, Morrigan could do nothing but stare in amazement at the noblewoman. She had to admit that this was a manipulation worthy of her mother. She had never believed that Erin was capable of such multi-depth thinking that would allow her to come up with, let alone implement, such deception. What was even more impressive was that the Grey Warden had actually managed to pull it off.

And it was all so that Alistair would live, Morrigan remembered. Erin loved the man more than she did her own life. That thought made Morrigan feel very sad, and wished she could understand how the woman could feel that way.

"Then... I shall bid you farewell," Morrigan announced, teary and resigned. "I will not stay to watch you walk to your death, nor do I intend to lead you there."

"I understand," Erin replied calmly.

"I knew nothing of friendship before we met," Morrigan stated sadly. "And, I will always consider you such."

"Take care of yourself."

With that, Morrigan turned round and walked out of Erin's room. She did not close the door, and left it open, where Loghain entered moments later.

Erin sighed in exasperation. She was glad she'd given everyone an hour to pack. At this rate, it would take that long for her to fend off everyone's attempt to convince her to spare herself. Of course, she hadn't been expecting Loghain, so he probably wanted something else.

"If you're looking for congratulations you won't get any," Erin remarked viciously, returning to her chest.

"Spite is an ugly thing, my dear," Loghain commented, unfazed. "It fits you poorly."

Erin paused at the slight compliment before picking up more bottles of poisons. She was content to ignore Loghain's attempts of appeasement, constantly reminding herself of what she had to do.

"We leave for Redcliff by the hour's end, I suggest you pack," she stated.

"I am already prepared," he answered.

"Of course you are," she muttered irritably under her breath, cringing slightly at his insistence.

They were silent for a time as Erin continued to pack. She was grateful that Loghain made no attempt to aid her, nor speak to her. She finally finished emptying her chest and made her way to her closet, where she had stored all of her weapons and other set of armour.

"May I ask what it is you intend for me?" Loghain inquired suddenly.

"What?" Erin asked, turning to frown confusedly at him.

"You did not spare my life at the Landsmeet out of charity," he observed. "You obviously have a plan, and I merely wish to know my part in it."

Erin was silent as she contemplated her answer. She was sure he wouldn't respond well to that fact that she only used him to get Alistair out of Denerim.

"You... are Plan B," she replied. "If by chance, some genlock makes a lucky hit and I don't reach the archdemon, you'll have to be the one to kill it."

"And why do you have to be the one to kill the archdemon?" Loghain inquired.

Erin was silent for a moment. She looked at him with a sadness that seemed older than her, a knowledge in her mind that belonged to the world weary.

"How much has Riordan told you?" she asked, curious if she would have to explain.

Loghain narrowed his eyes, suspiciously wary and confused. He shook his head slowly, not understanding the question.

"Has he told you why only Grey Wardens can end the Blight?" she clarified.

Loghain's shoulders sagged slightly in apprehension. Again he shook his head.

"Because we have to die," she stated dispassionately. "When we kill the archdemon, it's spirit travels to us, and our soul is destroyed along with it. If it's not a Grey Warden who strikes the killing blow, then the archdemon's essence will flow into the nearest darkspawn. And, the cycle begins again."

Erin could have laughed at Loghain. She'd never seen the colour of man's face disappear so quickly, although he was starting to look like he was going to be violently ill. She knew that she couldn't make him absorb that knowledge any quicker than in his own time, so she returned her attention to her closet.

Her current concern was whether she should change into her other armour. She was still wearing the superior drakeskin armour that Wade had made for her. Whereas the drakeskin was light and allowed her plenty of flexibility, the other armour offered much more protection which she may need when she faced the archdemon. However, the other armour was heavy and would slow her down, which may cost much more.

She was built for speed, not strength. She decided to keep wearing the drakeskin and pray that it would do.

"Why?"

Erin whipped round, startled. She'd completely forgotten that Loghain was still in the room. He looked slightly better, not so pale, but there was a look in his eyes that she instantly recognised.

"Why do you have to kill the archdemon?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm and even.

"Because I have nothing left," Erin replied honestly. "My family is gone, Alistair is gone... and I'm a little fed up with being left behind all the time."

"And what of those you leave behind?" he noted. "What of your companions?"

Erin lowered her eyes as she thought of her answer. She knew Loghain would not accept anything less a solid reason, and she was determined to give him an appropriate answer.

"They didn't join me because I was their friend. They joined to fight the Blight," she finally answered. "I've become friends with them all since them came, but that was after they joined my party. They'll find something else to do."

Erin watched Loghain patiently, waiting for the next argument, the next offer. She waited for him to suggest that he take the final blow, that he sacrifice himself for Ferelden. She waited for him to say that it would be his act of redemption, that he would bear the price, that he would do one final act of good for Ferelden after all that he had done.

"I have the feeling that nothing I say will sway you against this," Loghain observed.

"You would be correct," Erin agreed.

Loghain crossed his arms, and scrutinised her for a moment. He shifted his weight to his other foot and then, apparently satisfied, nodded and turned around. He walked slowly to the door, and turned round to face her again.

"I'll be waiting in the main hall," he announced.

And then, she was all alone. Loghain had been polite enough to close her door behind him, giving her privacy to finish packing.

She examined her weapons. She had damaged the two silverite longswords that she'd thrown at Oghren, not to mention the axe wasn't coming out of the doorframe any time soon. She picked out two new blades, neither were as good as the two they were replacing, and short bow to rest off her belt. She sheathed the two longswords and took out a quiver of arrows out before she closed the closet. There was nothing else in there that she could carry.

She double-checked her knapsack to ensure that the numerous bottles weren't going to break and then slung it over her shoulder. She walked out of her room and stared across the hallway. Eamon's study was opposite her. Alistair would have been packing in there if she hadn't driven him away, if she hadn't betrayed him.

She shook her head and carried on down to the main hall. The sight there made her stop.

Every single one of her friends, her companions –except Morrigan, of course– looked over to her. They all had their travelling bags, full of their belongings, on their backs, and they all had their weapons-of-choice with them. Leliana had Marjolaine's recurve on her back, with Andraste's arrows in her quiver, Sten had his sword, Asala, Oghren had a greatsword, Wynne had her staff, and Zevran had his Antivan Crow daggers. Shale simply had some bright crystals in her arms and shoulders, and Loghain had whatever sword he had.

It was then that she realised that everyone was coming with her, none of them were abandoning her. She felt her chest tighten as overwhelming relief washed over her. She felt one hot tear fall down her face, and she gasped as she remembered to breathe. She smiled gratefully at all of them, before forcing her face into a serious, calm expression.

"Alright, let's go," she ordered.


	4. Last Moment

Author's note: This chapter is somewhat short, because I had to cut it in two. I can deal with a chapter that's around 3000 words, but I draw the line at 5000. I've skipped past the events at Redcliff because it wasn't important for the story. Enjoy!

* * *

The genlock's mace swung past Erin's face, narrowly missing her chin as she jerked backwards. Two seconds later, the mace made contact with her right hand, its spikes breaking through the drakescales. The sound of crunching bone was inaudible and went unnoticed under the throb of battle.

Unfortunately for Erin, the same could not be said for the pain. She could feel all of her fingers breaking, sending pain shooting up her arm like lightening. She screamed, reeling back as her hand lost the strength to hold her sword. She brought her left hand to her right, momentarily forgetting where she was.

For a moment, she was twelve years old, and Fergus had caught her hand during practise. For a moment, the duelling had stopped and their weapons instructor was running over to take her to Nan, to have her fingers tended to. For a moment, she could hear her brother calling frantically to her, telling her that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant it. For a moment, she could hear Gilmore stating huffily that girls shouldn't fight, that they should be learning how to dance and play an instrument. For a moment, she had a sharp retort for him, saying that she was better at fighting than him, and she was younger than him, and she was a girl.

And then, she was twenty years old. She was a Grey Warden. She was in Fort Drakon. She had broken fingers and a genlock was about to take her head off.

She screamed again, this time with determination. She swiped her left hand before her, her sword singing through the air with her burst of strength. She watched it pass the genlock. Its head rolled away while its newly liberated neck sprayed Erin with black blood as the body collapsed.

She turned to look dazedly at her companions; Loghain had just finished gutting the last hurlock. Wynne was looking at a particular nasty head wound that Sten had received from an ogre no more than a minute ago, and the qunari seemed to be struggling to focus his eyes.

"We'll stop here for a moment," Erin announced, panting heavily.

With no need for further invitation, Loghain cleaned and sheathed his blade before reaching for a poultice. He poured a small amount of the liquid on a gash on his arm before downing the rest. He then moved away from the group and towards the nearest wall. Once he reached it, he leaned against it and slid down to sit on the floor. He absentmindedly wiped his face and brow with the back of his gauntlet, mixing the sweat with darkspawn blood and smearing his face with it. It almost looked like he was applying war paint.

Erin smiled weakly at the thought. She sheathed the blade in her left hand and reached down to pick up her second sword. She yelped in pain and surprise when she tried to move her fingers, but quickly strangled the noise. She fought against the tears that burned in her eyes and threatened to overflow.

She wasn't quick enough to hide her discomfort, however, and caught everyone's attention. Wynne turned to observe her and obviously realised what was wrong. The mage approached her and gently took her hand.

"Broken fingers," Wynne stated. "If I'm going to set this properly, I need to take the glove off."

"It doesn't have to be set properly, Wynne," Erin replied, gritting her teeth. "As long I can hold my sword, I don't care."

The mage looked at her sharply. She could tell that Wynne had been about to reprimand her and tell her that she would need her hand to be in good condition for the future. But then, she obviously remembered that Erin's future was going to end in twenty minutes, if she was lucky. Wynne's face softened into something sad, and she nodded.

"I would rather heal it properly," she continued half-heartedly. "If it's set wrong, then you may not want to hold a sword."

Erin's face fell in surprise. She hadn't thought of that. She knew how painful it was going to be to set her fingers, and realised that if she was distracted for even a moment because of her fingers it would probably be disastrous. She undid the lace that kept the glove from sliding off, and tried not to wince as Wynne tugged the glove off her more than slightly mangled hand.

She tried not to gag at the sight, which seemed to throb more to spite her. She'd seen worse on others, on enemies even, but she had to argue that she couldn't feel the pain from others. She forced herself to look away, and not hinder Wynne with her pained expression.

A leather glove suddenly appeared in front of her nose. She blinked and looked up to see Loghain offering it to her. A quick glance to Wynne handling her fingers with extreme care whilst watching her was enough for Erin to understand.

"Do you remember asking Morrigan how strong human teeth were, Sten?" Erin asked lightly, catching the qunari's attention. "You're about to find out."

She opened her mouth wide enough for Loghain to lay the glove between her teeth before clamping down. She then nodded affirmatively at Wynne and turned away, cringing.

Crack!

All of Erin's fingers screamed in unison and the leather glove groaned in complaint as she bit down with all of her strength. A strangled screech reverberated in her throat as she fought down the bile rising in her throat. Tears leaked from her eyes as her fingers burned hot and cold from the pain, which was slowly receding from Wynne's healing touch. Very slowly.

Soon it was all over. She breathed in jagged breaths through her nose. She wasn't quite willing to loosen her hold on the glove, and she was quite content to ignore Loghain's surprisingly gentle tug of encouragement. Her eyes were closed, but she knew it was him.

"I believe it's dead, my dear," Wynne finally noted, referring to the glove.

Erin reluctantly relaxed her jaw and felt it leave her mouth. Though she had to admit curiosity to what Loghain intended to do with it, and opened her eyes to find out. To her surprise, he merely dropped it onto the floor near the pile of darkspawn. She chuckled slightly, remembering Wynne's attempt at humour.

"I'm not too sure about that, Wynne," she chuckled. "Thing was twitching in my mouth like nobody's business. I wonder if it's like that when Torgan catches rabbits."

Wynne chuckled sadly in reply. She then returned the drakeskin glove to Erin and stood up. She gave Loghain a quick glance, checking that nothing was in desperate need of healing, and then returned to check on Sten.

Erin hissed quietly as she slowly and carefully flexed her fingers. They ached sharply, still protesting the trauma of the last few minutes. She made sure that she could clench her fist, and then finally reached down and picked up her sword. She sheathed it into her back scabbard and was glad to notice that the pain in her hand was fading, albeit slowly.

"Do you really think we're in any condition to fight the archdemon?" Loghain asked her quietly, standing close to her so Wynne and Sten wouldn't overhear.

"It's not like we have much of a choice, Loghain," Erin admitted, equally hushed. "Our allies are focusing on securing the city. We can't call for them here. It's up to us."

"Why doesn't that instil much confidence in me?" he asked rhetorically.

"If you want to go back down, I'm not stopping you," Erin sneered viciously.

Loghain stepped back in surprise. He looked at her with a shocked expression, before realisation dawned on him. He seemed to forget that she was at Ostagar, she'd seen his 'tactical error', and she'd watched the massacre that his actions had entailed. He apparently, finally, realised that she would always see him as a coward, a traitor.

"Everyone ready?" Erin called.

There were murmurs of assertion from Wynne and Sten. They both joined the Grey Wardens and stood ready to climb the last flight of stairs, ready to meet the archdemon, ready for the end.

Erin gave herself a moment to look, really look, at her friends.

Wynne looked fairly undisturbed by the battles, but considering that she had been staying out of the throng, supporting them from afar, perhaps it wasn't so surprising that she looked far better than Erin, Sten or Loghain.

Sten had finally managed to focus his eyes, and was watching her intently. His armour was covered in blood, and the wound on his head was barely healed, but he remained as stoic as ever. She could tell that he was waiting for her to give the order to press forward.

Loghain looked exhausted, she suddenly realised. He was haggard from the constant fighting, and his endurance was wearing thin. Erin had to remind herself that, despite taking his place, he wasn't Alistair. He wasn't a young man who just needed to catch his breath and would then be able to run for ten miles. Loghain was old.

Erin breathed in deeply, steeling herself for the next fight. However this ended, she was going to die. She'd known in many of the fights she'd been in that she could die, but this... there wasn't possibility in this fight, only absolute. It was a sobering thought, indeed.

But, she had to keep going. Dying with archdemon was the only thing she had now, and it had pulled her through the wave of darkspawn in Redcliff. It had made her strike at the ogre alpha that had stormed the castle gates, and refused to let her fall.

"Let's finish this," she whispered, but she knew that they had all heard her.

She turned to the staircase, breathed in, and started to climb. She could hear her companions' feet on the steps behind her. The stairs wound up for what seemed like forever. She hated this part, this waiting as she approached the next obstacle, the next battle.

They finally reached the top and Erin reached out to open the door. She pushed on it, and her little group spilled out into the tower roof, breathing in the open air.

A soldier flew into their view, landing painfully on the floor, and he did not move. Erin skidded to a halt in shock, feeling Loghain land a hand on her shoulder to stop himself from running into her.

And then, they saw it: the archdemon.


	5. Final Battle

Urthemiel, the Tevinter god of beauty. Erin could not think of anything apart from how twisted that was now. Indeed, there was a beauty in the dragon's form, but the spikes and blackened scales had twisted it into something deformed that made her stomach churn.

Some of the tower guards were still alive, and were attacking the archdemon with desperate, frantic vigour. They were firing arrows at its great bulk, only a fraction of which penetrated in past the scales. The rest bounced off harmlessly, doing no more than aggravating the dragon, enraging it further.

Urthemiel whipped around, his tail sending soldiers sprawling. He beat down with his wings before raising them, sending some men, screaming, over the tower edge and down towards the ground. He lunged his head around, trapping a man in his jaws and he bit down, his tainted teeth tearing through armour, flesh and bone alike. He tossed the carcass over the precipice as well, finished with it. After crushing a man underfoot, he spat out fire at the remaining soldiers, burning them to a crisp and leaving those who hadn't died to be swallowed by his unnatural flame.

Erin watched silently, taking in every movement, looking for any weakness. But all she could see was the great tear down the dragon's right wing, where Riordan had sliced through the membrane with his sword before falling to his death. But, from the high dragon that she had fought in the mountain by Andraste's ashes, and Flemeth in the Korcari Wilds, she had learnt that there was a weak spot between the fore and hind leg.

Beside her Loghain gasped in shock, and she felt it too. It was a sudden instinct, something brought on from the taint. She could feel an almost unbreakable desire to protect the hideous creature before her, the craving singing in her blood and mind. This is what it meant to be a Grey Warden, to feel the urge to protect the archdemon and to rebel against what the taint was trying to make her do.

Her chest ached as she breathed in, steeling herself against its influence. As it faced her, she could feel its essence, its evil, its rage. As it roared in anger for her defiance, she bolstered her spirit and took out her longswords.

"ATTACK!!!" she screamed, running towards the dragon and her death.

The war cries of Sten and Loghain soon followed and Wynne's casting soon reached her ears as they charged at the dragon.

Erin ducked under a wing, and began attacking the scales. For the moment, she wasn't trying to hurt the archdemon, just making a hole big enough for Sten to send his sword through. She made a few upper swipes, taking off a few scales, and made a small cut on the archdemon's newly exposed skin.

Sten, knowing this technique, had been at the archdemon's head, drawing its attention to him so Erin could weaken it without its knowing. He had swung Asala at the archdemon's forefoot as it tried to grab him. He ignored the feeling of its blood on him, and its pain and anger filled screech. He was surprised, however, when the archdemon looked to its side, glaring murderously at the little human.

"Kadan!" Sten yelled.

Erin looked over to Sten and, realising that he wasn't actually looking at her, raised her head to follow his gaze. The archdemon looked more than a little angry to her, and she was finding its attention unfavourable.

It swept round to face her, extending its wing to knock Sten down. It drew up its head before lunging at her, jaws open and teeth sharp. It was about to snap at her, when its snout hit a shield, veering it to a side. The archdemon reared up and roared in frustration.

"Hurry Erin!" Loghain shouted.

Obediently, Erin scampered to its other side. She saw from the corner of her eye that Sten was returning to his feet, a pale blue mist swirling around him as Wynne healed however many bones the archdemon's wing had broken. Loghain was using his shield to beat the archdemon's head aside while using his sword to try and catch something vital in its neck.

She sliced at the scales again, this time more deftly, and with greater speed. She had soon cut away a sizable amount of scales, and without harming the skin below. Now, she just needed Sten to take advantage of her work.

"Erin, look out!" Wynne's slightly panicked voice reached the noblewoman's ears.

Urthemiel had brought his head around to focus on her, glaring furiously at how close she was to him. He raised his hind foot and shifted it forward, trying to kick her out from beneath him. However, with her light armour, his talons were more likely to spear her.

Erin dived over the claws and fell into a roll. When she stood, she realised that she was under the dragon entirely. She'd never seen the underbelly of a dragon before, and she suddenly appreciated the fact that all Urthemiel had to do was lie down and he would squash her. Feeling more than slightly frightened at the situation, Erin swung her longswords in a flurry, hoping that she could inflict enough injuries for him to give her a chance to escape.

She was surprised to find that the scales covering the underbelly were incredibly soft. She was almost inclined to think that she could break through them with her fingernails, not that she cared to test that theory. This meant that she had made much deeper wounds than she was expecting, and blood poured from the gashes. She focused on her movements, adjusting slightly as the blood, warm and slick, made it difficult for her to grip her blades.

Above her, the archdemon screeched in pain at Erin's attacks. It jumped up, flapping its wings, hoping to catch her, hoping to kill her.

Erin raced about as she valiantly tried to avoid the archdemon's claws. She darted about beneath the great hulk, slashing at scaled flesh whenever chance came. She was sure that she was slowly getting out from under the beast, but for every step she took out, she had to scurry back to miss being skewered by fierce talons.

Although she was focused on the four limbs that were trying to catch her, she could hear Loghain, Sten and Wynne a short distance away. They'd might as well have been a mile away for all the help they could offer, only able to shout and use other futile attempts to regain the archdemon's attention.

Suddenly, a wing came out of nowhere and caught Erin in the midriff, knocking all the air out of her. With nothing else to do, she stabbed both her blades into either side of the wing membrane and held on for dear life. She could hear the archdemon roaring and felt herself being jerked from where was standing. She scrunched her eyes shut in terror, but was distinctively aware that she was no longer on the floor.

She couldn't find any way to describe the force that she felt as the archdemon obviously flapped its wing, trying to dislodge her. She was acutely aware that, while she was being shaken around like a child's ragdoll, she wasn't moving from her position on the dragon's wing.

"ERIN!!!" came a cry from somewhere below her.

Erin hazarded opening one eye and found herself staring down at her friends, who were below the hissing face of the archdemon. She was **very** high up. She was dangling from her two swords, and her shoulders and arms were starting to ache from the strain.

She then noticed the smoke that was coming out of the archdemon's nostrils and through its teeth. Fearfully, she used a burst of strength to pull herself up, curling herself around and bringing her legs above her head and squeezing against the dragon's wing, suddenly finding herself face down.

She pulled her swords out of the wing and pushed out with her legs. She flipped back round so she would land on her feet. She was suddenly engulfed in flames from the archdemon, and she fell to the rooftop like a stone, only just managing to not break any bones in her legs and feet as she landed.

She patted her flames on her back out quickly and limped hurriedly over to where her companions were. They all had looks of astonishment, probably due to the fact that she was still alive. She saw Wynne suddenly move her hands and murmur a healing incantation and felt her legs return to a semi-solid state. She nodded thanks and returned her gaze to the archdemon, which had taken flight and was circling above them.

"Come on you bastard!" Erin yelled angrily.

The archdemon, however, did not return to the main platform. Instead, it landed on a platform that was too far away for any of them to jump to, and too small for them to land on safely. Once secure in its safety, the archdemon raised its head and roared. Once finished, it lowered its gaze to observe them, a sense of smugness eradiated off it.

A war cry from behind them made Erin's blood turn cold as she sensed the approaching darkspawn. Being flanked was one of things from Erin's nightmares. She'd done it plenty of times herself, and knew how deadly efficient a tactic it was. She spun around quickly, futilely hoping for a miracle, before clapping sight of a curious piece of equipment that made her lips curve into a slight smile.

"Wynne, get off the field!" she ordered. "Find higher ground. Sten, Loghain! Keep the darkspawn back."

"What of you?" Loghain shouted as Wynne and Sten ran off to obey their leader.

"Don't worry about me, just keep them back," Erin replied before turning to run off to a nearby battlement.

Loghain didn't question her any further and joined Sten as the front line defence. He sliced at the surging darkspawn, cutting them down effortlessly. However, it wasn't the difficulty of the task that had caused Erin to order both warriors to deal with it; it was simply the sheer magnitude. Alone, one would have been overwhelmed.

Erin ignored the struggling duo, and raced up the steps of the battlement. Once at the top, she sheathed her swords and took control of a much larger weapon: a ballista. She was in luck that one was directed perfectly at the archdemon's side. She grabbed the release lever with both hands and pushed.

The bolt flew with deadly speed and precision, burying itself deep into the archdemon's side. If Erin had to guess, she thought the bolt was not high enough to go through its ribs. Whether it did or not, she knew one thing, it had hurt.

Urthemiel instantly turned, snarling furiously, at her. She knew what was coming next, and she drove herself to the floor. She caught sight of a dead soldier's shield, and she reached for it. She tore the shield off the man's arm and raised it over her head. The fire passed over and surrounded her.

She suddenly felt very glad that she had decided to keep wearing Wade's superior armour. It was protecting her beautifully from the scorching heat, though she could feel her hands crying in protest as the inner part of the gloves began to give. She was holding the shield rim, and it was turning red hot against the flames, burning her soft, fleshy palms. But she gritted her teeth forced herself to endure. Finally, the flames abated and Erin was still alive amongst the scorched rocks.

A cry from her right made her turn to see a hurlock get past Sten and Loghain and make its way to her. She painfully shifted her grip to hook her arm through the shield supports and unsheathed one sword. She charged at the rogue hurlock, bowling it over in surprise. She lunged her sword at it, nicking its jugular. She left it die and returned to the ballista.

She shook the shield off her arm, and sheathed her sword again. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she hauled the drawstring back with a pair of winches. She forced herself not to fumble with the next bolt as she struggled to lift it into its nest.

She whirled round at the sound of a hiss and a cry of pain. A hurlock fell to the ground, dead, before her, an arrow stuck in her back of its neck. She looked up to see two Dalish elves approaching her position, one of which was Cammen, the young elf that she had helped into marriage. Behind them, several more elves were appearing on the rooftop, drawing their bows and firing at the darkspawn.

"Fear not, Warden, "Cammen called to Erin. "We won't let any past."

"How's it going with your first hunt?" Erin yelled in return.

"I don't think Gheyna would accept a hurlock, do you?" he laughed.

"Probably not," Erin agreed, smiling.

With the pleasantries over, they returned to their respective tasks. The elves shot at any darkspawn that passed Sten and Loghain, while Erin loaded the ballista. She grabbed the release lever again and pushed, but couldn't move it.

She frantically checked the device, ensuring that nothing had melted or jammed. She turned around and tugged at the lever, using her bodyweight to add to the force. Still, nothing moved. She backed off slightly and glared angrily at it.

"Oh, come on!" she yelled, kicking the lever with all her strength.

The ballista sprung into action and fired the bolt. It penetrated deep into the archdemon's side, causing it scream in pain and surprise. It turned round to face her again, and she was about to shout a warning to her protectors when it screamed again. Looking past it, she saw more elves on another ballista on the other side of the archdemon.

Clearly affronted at being attacked on both sides, Urthemiel took flight once again. He passed over the fray and landed on a platform that Erin could get to. She stood up and touched both elves on the shoulder.

"Keep the darkspawn back as best you can," she ordered, drawing her blades. "Wynne! Sten! Loghain! To me!"

Her companions untangled themselves from the battle and joined her as she ran to face the archdemon again. It certainly looked worse than she thought. The three bolts in its side were black with oozing blood. The gashes on its belly, legs, wings and neck were bleeding profusely. The archdemon was shaking slightly, and Erin guessed it was from blood loss.

She'd hoped this meant it was weak enough for them, but it still put up a great deal of a fight. Despite its attacks being massively uncoordinated, the dragon was still capable of keeping them back. Everyone knew that it only took one mistake, one move that was one second too slow, and the battle was over. Everyone was exhausted beyond belief, Erin could see in their movements that were beginning to become sluggish, even she didn't have the energy to yell orders and direct their strikes.

Then, she saw it: her opening. She ran forward and jumped up onto one of the dragon's forelegs before bounding onto its shoulder. From there, she leapt over to land on the nape of its neck and grabbed one of the horns with her left hand. She drove her sword down into the skull, but her sword wasn't heavy enough, she wasn't strong enough, to pierce straight through to the brain. She stabbed the archdemon again and again, not once lessening her grip on it horn as it writhed around, trying to dislodge her.

The archdemon threw one last burst of fire out to Erin's companions before its head hit the ground, throwing Erin off. There it struggled to summon the strength to raise itself.

Erin grabbed Sten's outstretched arm and stood up. The look on everyone's face was terrible. They all knew that this was the last moment, that this was where Erin's future died, where time stopped.

"Farewell Sten," Erin nodded her head to the qunari.

"Farewell Kadan," Sten replied, his calm face seemed a little forced.

Erin turned to Wynne. She couldn't find any words for the mage and suddenly found herself in a tight embrace, which she readily returned. She could tell Wynne didn't want to let her go, and had to grip the older woman's elbows before she was released. She didn't look at Wynne's face, afraid to see tears, and turned to Loghain.

"You know, you never did tell my why you wanted to do this," he mused.

"I think I did," Erin replied, not willing to repeat it, especially in front of Wynne.

"Then let me rephrase," Loghain asked, tilting his head slightly. "_Who_ are you doing this for?"

Erin smiled knowingly. She walked up to him and, standing on her toes, whispered into his ear. He looked at her with the same knowing look and nodded his head, satisfied.

She turned away from her companions and faced the archdemon. She breathed in once... twice... and on the third she burst into a sprint. She grabbed the greatsword from a nearby corpse. She kept running as she strained to lift the sword, fast approaching the archdemon. She managed to raise it above her head as the dragon finally brought up its head, and she sliced its throat open before stumbling to a halt.

The archdemon screamed through its ripped throat before crashing to the floor once again. It was fighting to maintain consciousness as Erin approached it. She lifted the sword above Urthemiel, positioning it carefully before sending it crashing down between his eyes.

A bright light erupted from the dragon's skull, breaking into the sky like a beacon.

Erin could feel the Old God's soul wrap itself around her. She could feel it touching her own, and the pain was immense. She could hardly think to scream for the agony was so great, but she managed to lift her head and let one word leave her lips.

His name.

And then, it was over. The pain was gone, and the light had drawn back into the sword that she clung to. A shockwave swept through her, sending her flying away from the archdemon's cooling corpse. The sword was ripped from her weakened grip and went clattering away.

She felt her back land on the cold stone and her head hit the ground a second later. She could see the gathering clouds above her. Blood red, rain grey and other sunset colours were all mixed and swirled together in her unfocused sight. The light of the waning sun shone weakly on one eye.

Considering the pain, this was a peaceful way to die.

A shadow leaned over her. She could just make out the armour, the longsword and shield. But, she realised dimly that this person had short hair. She turned her head slightly and forced her eyes to focus, one last time.

"Alistair..." she smiled weakly.

She tried to raise her hand to touch his face, though she knew this was probably a dream. But, it is a good dream to die with. The look in his eyes was soft, if not slightly unsure, like he used to look at her, before the Landsmeet, before she betrayed him.

And finally, she fell into darkness.

* * *

Author's end note: This is not the end, so keep looking for an update.


	6. Unexpected Results

Denerim rose up in chorus as humans, elves and dwarves cried out in triumph. The darkspawn were fleeing back to the Korcari Wilds as if they had all been firmly kicked in the nether regions. Several in the fleeing horde would fall as they were hit by arrows from those few who just wanted to add incentive.

Teagan stood at the gates of Denerim, looking over to the smoke that rose from the top of Fort Drakon. He stood silently as he waited to breathe easily, watching all around him rejoice at the victory.

Well, almost everybody.

He recognised five figures as some of Erin's companions, standing as silently as he was, looking up to the tower as he was. They had been essential to their keeping of the main gate, and he decided to congratulate them on their shared victory. But he stopped short when he approached them.

The sole woman of the group, Leliana he believed her name was, had her hands to her face, and her shoulders were shaking. Teagan was almost certain that he could hear sobs hiccupping out of her. When the elf reached a hand over to brush against her back, she turned and clung to him, her grieving sobs now easier to hear.

The dwarf had thrown his sword into the ground, where it stood with its hilt pointing towards the sky. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was pointedly not looking at anything other than the tower.

The golem... Teagan wasn't entirely sure what the golem was doing, but he was fairly certain that it wasn't happy. The Mabari hound was howling like it had lost his master.

And then it hit him. The dog had lost his master. The group had lost their leader, their friend. The Grey Warden, Erin Cousland was dead. He wasn't sure how they knew it, or how he knew, but he knew that there was no question of it, absolutely no doubt.

"Well, come on," the dwarf suddenly ordered. "We're not going to sodding wait for them here. Let's get to the palace."

The bereaved group followed the dwarf silently. The woman was still clinging to the elf, as he was the only thing that was keeping her on her feet. The elf himself seemed to be holding himself together quite well considering, but Teagan couldn't see his face so he couldn't be certain. The golem and dog brought up the rear, both with slow steps and heads hung low, tail too for the dog.

Unable to do anything else, Teagan sheathed his sword and followed them. He didn't speak to them, but simply walked beside the woman and elf. The looks on their faces showed that, beneath their grief, they were grateful to him joining them.

The six of them walked slowly like a procession towards the palace. They did not cheer as others around them did, but merely walked on. When they finally reached the palace, Teagan took the lead and guided them round to the back, where the wide steps lead up to Fort Drakon.

Teagan remembered that Loghain, a mage, Wynne, and a qunari, who he remembered Erin had introduced as Sten, had accompanied the noblewoman to Redcliff. He knew that they had followed her to the confrontation with the archdemon. He wondered absentmindedly which of them would be the one to carry her down.

Despite being twenty years old, Erin was still quite small. She had joked with him one night after she had saved his nephew, Connor, from the clutches of the demon. She had told him that she had worn armour since she was twelve and it had kept her short. She had chuckled, saying that she had noticed that men preferred women they didn't have to look up at, though they found it easier to stare at their cleavage.

Alistair had choked on his drink when she'd said that remark.

He shook away thoughts of his nephew –no thoughts would bring the lad back– and focused on Erin. Due to her size, she was going to look like a child whether it was Sten or Loghain who brought her down, although, the effect would be greater if it was Sten.

Teagan raised his head at the scuffling sound of something approaching. He clapped eyes on a white wolf trotting past him. He saw it purposefully avoided the group behind him, but that could have been due to the Mabari.

He turned back to the stairs to see Loghain descend slowly. The former teyrn was covered in blood, had burn marks over his face and his skin was pale. He looked completely exhausted, and did not have the strength to raise a proper greeting to the bann. His arms were empty.

Teagan looked past him to see the qunari, equally bone-weary, walking down the steps. His face was expressing neither exhaustion nor grief, however, but relief. He nodded to Teagan before joining the group behind him. He was not carrying Erin, as Teagan had expected.

Confused, he turned back to the steps. He couldn't believe that the men would let the mage carry Erin down. Surely she was not that small, surely.

Wynne was next down the steps. She would occasionally pause and look up before continuing her descent. She, too, looked above grief. In fact, she smiled wearily but happily at Teagan as she passed him, and approached Leliana. She whispered something into the woman's ear.

Something good apparently, as Leliana brightened up considerably, her eyes misted up with hope. Intrigued, Teagan looked from them to the steps, back to them, and then rested finally on the steps. Something was going on, and he had no idea what.

Then another pair of silverite armoured boots came slowly down the stairs. The armour was covered in blood and grime. In the arms of the person was Erin, her head resting against the person's chest, rather than hanging limply backwards.

And staring down at her was Alistair's blood covered face.

The young Templar looked as tired as any of the others. His eyes were ringed by dark circles, showing his obvious lack of sleep. He would look down at her face with concern every so often before returning his gaze to where he was putting his next foot.

As they drew close, Teagan saw that a strand of hair was lying across Erin's face and was quivering slightly as she breathed out. He saw Alistair flash a smile at him, and Teagan understood what everyone was smiling about, what everyone was relieved about.

Erin was alive. She had survived.

* * *

Loghain was leaning against a doorpost when Anora found him. He hadn't changed from his armour and was covered in drying darkspawn blood. His face was clean, however, and his burns had been addressed. He looked over to his daughter and smiled wearily at her before returning his attention to the occupants of the room he was standing outside of.

When she reached his side, she looked in to see three people, one of whom she had not expected to see again.

Erin was lying unconscious on the bed, a simple cotton sheet covering her. She was out of her drakeskin armour and was wearing simple linen underclothes. She had several cuts, scratches and bruises on her face, Anora couldn't see any other skin, and her hands were extensively bandaged.

Wynne was busy with tending to Erin's many injuries. The mage was exhausted, her movements slow. She was addressing Erin's injuries with physical aids, rather than magical, and was finishing up on smearing a paste on the far side of the woman's face, probably to treat burns like the ones Loghain owned.

Then, apparently finished, she spoke softly to the last occupant of the room, who nodded to her, before turning to leave the room. She showed little surprise at Anora and Loghain's presence at the door, or maybe she was just too tired to be surprised.

Anora and Loghain stepped back to let the mage enter the hallway. Anora allowed her five seconds to compose herself.

"How is she?" Loghain asked concernedly, beating Anora to the question.

"Exhausted," Wynne replied. "I don't think she's slept since before the Landsmeet. I don't think she's eaten since then, either."

"Isn't that impossible?" Anora asked. "Surely she wouldn't have the strength or energy to fight as well as she did."

"It's no small feat, I'll admit," Loghain replied. "But it's not impossible by far. That woman raised an army in a matter of months. I don't doubt that she'd done plenty of it on an empty stomach or without as much as an hour's sleep."

"Nothing could stop her once she'd set herself a goal," Wynne agreed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her right hand tiredly.

"And, what of him?" Anora asked, sneering as she turned to the young man who was in the room with Erin.

Alistair had taken his armour off, laying it by the side of the chair he was sitting on. His linen underclothes were stained with blood, some black from darkspawn and some red from himself, and grime that Anora didn't dare name.

He was hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. His head was bowed and Anora could swear that she could hear soft mumblings coming from him. Though she couldn't see his face, she was almost certain that his eyes were closed as he prayed to the Maker.

"I don't think Alistair has slept much either. When I told him to eat something, he told me that he'd eat later, when Erin woke up. Other than that, he doesn't have many words at the moment that aren't for Erin or the Maker," Wynne replied, her tired eyes narrowing suspiciously at the queen.

"Any ideas on why he hasn't left Ferelden?" Anora pressed.

"You can ask him yourself," Wynne answered tartly. "Don't expect an answer, though. I, on the other hand, am going to change into clean robes... maybe have a hot bath while I'm at it..."

The mage strolled down the hallway, leaving the queen and disgraced teyrn to watch the Grey Warden couple. She muttered under her breath, mentioning words like "idiots", "ungrateful" and others that Anora would never have believed to be present in a mage's vocabulary.

Anora turned round to her father as she heard him sigh. He was watching Alistair with a tired expression, as if he was really seeing the young man for the first time. He looked as if he was beginning to understand something that he'd never understood before.

"You only have to look at him, Anora, to know why he's still here," Loghain stated suddenly, feeling his daughter's eyes on him. "When we were on the top of Fort Drakon, I asked Erin who she was sacrificing herself for. She whispered in my ear that she would die with the name on her lips. As she struck the final blow, and the archdemon's spirit began to crush her, she screamed out Alistair's name."

Anora turned to look at the peaceful expression on the noblewoman's face, and wondered if the peace was only skin deep. She wondered what turmoil lay on the woman's heart, what pain had the archdemon given her, what wound that would never heal.

"And then suddenly, he appeared as if her cry had summoned him out of the very air," Loghain chuckled slightly. "When that shockwave threw us all to the floor, the boy was back on his feet before the rest of us had realised that we'd hit the ground."

Loghain smiled sadly. He turned away from the room and faced Anora. He bent down slightly and kissed her on the cheek before straightening up.

"Those two are driven by a force that neither you nor I could ever hope to match," he murmured quietly to his daughter.

Then, he moved past Anora, removing his gauntlets.

She watched his retreating form until he had rounded the corner and was out of sight. She was still for a moment before turning back to the room. She walked quietly into the room, her attention focused on Alistair and Erin.

She saw that Alistair's longsword lay in reach of her, and out of his field of vision. She could easily pick it up, position it behind him and take his head off with one swipe. That would easily put an end to any chance of rebellion in his name, any chance of him suddenly coming to usurp her from the throne.

Then, she heard Alistair's prayer. His voice was edged with so much emotion, that Anora was surprised that he wasn't crying.

"Mercy be from the Maker and Andraste above," he whispered. "Let her be spared from pain and sorrow. See her heart and judge her pure and worthy your divine love. Heal her body, mind and spirit so that she may light the world with her wholesome embodiment of all that you teach us to be good. In the... In the name of..."

Now he was struggling. Now he was having trouble. The man was struggling to breathe, let alone finish his prayer.

"In the name of the Maker and Andraste above, so let it be," Anora finished calmly for him, kneeling beside him, her hands clasped together and her head bowed.

Alistair opened his eyes and looked over to Anora. She'd been mistaken when she'd thought he hadn't been crying. There were runs of skin that weren't as filthy as the rest of him, which ran from his eyes to his jaw. The look in his moist eyes couldn't be anything less than desolate.

"I doubt she would want to wake to see you like this," Anora observed, her words coming out harsher than she had intended. "Why don't you clean yourself up for her?"

"I don't want to leave her," he whispered a reply, shaking his head as he turned his gaze to the resting woman.

Anora didn't speak for a moment, taking in what he was saying, both consciously and subconsciously. The tension in his body relaxed slightly as he gazed at her. The look in his eyes was utterly devoted to the woman who lay before him, as he checked her expression for anything that may indicate that she was in pain.

He raised a hand to rest it lightly on Erin's cheek, and then her brow. He bit his lip slightly in dissatisfaction. He took a cloth out of the bowl of water that Anora hadn't noticed, wrung it of excess water, and dabbed Erin's face lightly, cooling her. He didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that he was ignoring Anora; he'd probably forgotten that she was even kneeling next to him.

Then Anora realised what her father had meant. This was the force that she could never hope to surpass, because such a feat was impossible. Alistair loved Erin, and she loved him. They were willing to put themselves aside for each other, and nothing could quell that.

"I'll send some servant to bring down some warm water for you to wash with," Anora stated, rising to her feet. "I'll also send someone down with clean clothes for you, and some stew."

"I'll eat it later," Alistair replied, his voice was monotone.

Anora could almost guess that he hadn't really heard her, but she decided to let his blatant disregard for her status slide for the moment. He hadn't even turned his head when she'd spoken.

Finding his disinterest more than a little annoying, Anora stalked out of the room. As much as she suddenly didn't want to send servants with water, clothes or food down to him, she knew she had to. Even if he didn't care much at the moment, he would undoubtedly mention it to anyone who asked why he was still in such a state.

Keeping such promises was one of the more distasteful sides of being queen.


	7. Bare Truths

Author's note: There is one more chapter after this, which is basically an epilogue, and I get to do something funny that I've wished was possible in the game.

* * *

The first thing Erin noticed was the warm darkness that encompassed her whole body. There was comfort in the darkness, a safety that she couldn't remember feeling since before Arl Howe had struck Highever, when she had been forced to flee with Duncan. It was peaceful.

She then realised that the warmth wasn't covering her as evenly as she had originally thought. The majority of her body was covered by gentle warmth, but from her arms and her shoulders up, she was cooler. The warmth was slight, and danced over her skin.

The next sensation she felt was the mild stretched feeling that was across the left side of her face. This was followed by a tingling in the palms of both hands, and a dull sting in several areas on her body. The discomfort was minimal, though, and was nothing that would threaten the comforting darkness that enveloped her. After all, she'd gone through worse in this foolish quest to stop the Blight.

_Crack! Sputter._

Those sounds... she recognised those. They were from a fire that was crackling merrily to itself. It may even be what was warming her so gently, so soothingly.

She shifted vaguely in no particular direction. As she did so, she felt her head move on a goose feather pillow. Her arms brushed against the rough cotton blanket that was covering her torso. It was then that she realised that she was lying on a bed, not the cold, hard ground.

She wasn't in camp.

Erin's eyes twitched slightly as she struggled against the darkness. As much as she wanted to stay in its bliss forever, her curiosity, and slowly rising confusion and consequent panic, were demanding that she open her eyes and discover what was happening.

Stone walls were bathed in orange firelight that flickered in a nearby hearth. She didn't recognise the room, which meant she wasn't in Highever, or Redcliff, or Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim. She knew she wasn't in some farmer's guest room, simply because farmers didn't decorate their guest rooms with tapestries.

Erin could see a chair beside the bed she was laying on, it was empty. Two bowls were on the side table by the head of the bed, though she couldn't see what either were filled of, if they were filled with anything at all.

Suddenly, the sound of splashing water echoed in the quiet room, from somewhere out of her limited field of vision as she fought to focus her eyes properly. She turned her head to the left slowly, ignoring the number of injuries that were protesting against her moving. She searched the place with her eyes, hoping to find something that would explain the situation.

Her eyes fell on a screen divider, rapidly and haphazardly erected by the looks of. A bloody shirt draped from it, and a shadow moved behind it.

A figure stepped back and into her line of sight. The figure was shirtless and was displaying a well toned set of muscles. Whoever they were, they were unconcerned about her doing anything, not that she felt like doing anything. There was more splashing of water, and Erin concluded that this person was cleaning of themselves, if the bloody shirt was anything to go by.

The figure straightened and turned towards her. She wasn't sure if they'd heard her, but she was sure that she hadn't made a sound. And then, they walked out from behind the screen. For a moment, they were hiding in shadow, but she heard the man, as she was sure he was, murmur something and then hesitantly stepped into the light.

Alistair's features finally came into focus for her and she felt her breath hitch in her chest. The way he was looking at her... it was a mixture of pure joy and absolute terror. She wouldn't have believed such a combination was possible apart from the fact that she was staring at it.

She frowned slightly, wondering what had happened that would cause that man she loved to look at her like he was. Then, memories of the Landsmeet, the battle of Denerim and her fight against the archdemon gently nudged themselves into her mind.

Everything she'd done to him, everything she'd taken from him, all the pain she'd caused him, and he was standing there, watching her waiting for her to say something, do something. All the guilt that she had buried deep in her heart, the heart she had tried to lock away, brought tears to her eyes. She turned away from him. She couldn't bear to have him looking at her like that, so tenderly, and yet so afraid.

The tears seared her eyes and face as they rolled down her cheeks. She demanded silently to her chest to rise and fall evenly, but it seemed content to ignore her. She knew that he could hear her crying, and she didn't want him to.

She didn't deserve to be upset. She didn't deserve to cry. She didn't deserve to wake up to see him there. In fact, she shouldn't have woken up. She should have died when she struck the final blow, killing the archdemon.

She turned back to Alistair, who hadn't moved. Water was dripping from his chin and his hair was plastered to his head.

"Alistair?" she whispered hoarsely.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he walked slowly towards her and crouched down beside her. His eyes flickered as he swept his gaze over her face, but he finally stopped, focusing on her eyes. He raised a hand cautiously and softly ran his thumb across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. He was being especially careful on her left cheek, where the tugging feeling she'd noticed was blossoming into a mild sting.

He smiled, though his lips were twitching as if he was struggling to contain something. She recognised the look from when they had awoken after the battle of Ostagar, and from whenever they had accidently fallen onto the topic of Duncan, or the Grey Wardens. He was trying to be strong in front of her, and trying not to cry.

Despite his efforts, or perhaps because of it, more tears flowed from her eyes. He diligently continued to wipe her tears away, while containing his own. She could see his eyes becoming moister as each second passed.

Erin raised her hand to lay it on his. She was mildly surprised when a mitten of bandages came into her vision. She frowned in confusion, not understanding why they'd appeared and not her hand.

Alistair looked over and held the bandages gently, though she could feel his touch. She briefly wondered if her hand was beneath the mass.

"You always have to do things yourself, don't you?" Alistair asked quietly, not turning to look at her.

There was no judgement in his tone, no damnation, nothing. He was just asking, and that frightened Erin, more than anything.

"I..." Erin trailed off, not knowing what she could say.

Alistair finally turned his head to her. He could see the fear in her eyes, she knew he could. He could see everything, as he'd always been able to. He knew that she had no idea what to say, and she needed him to say something for her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, again, there was no judgement. "Why didn't you tell me about the sacrifice?"

"You wouldn't have let me kill the archdemon," she replied quietly. "Would you have let me die?"

Alistair's shoulders dropped as she spoke. She had always talked about the important things bluntly, and it was all the worse when she right. They both knew she was right.

"No, I wouldn't have," he admitted. "I would have taken the blow myself. I don't think I'd be able to live without you."

"Exactly. I've had enough people die either **for** me, or **because** of me," she stated. "It would kill me to add your name to that list."

"But, what about Loghain?" Alistair offered. "Couldn't he have taken the final blow?"

"Do you know how many people tried to convince me to do that?" she smiled weakly. "I couldn't do that. I wouldn't have lived with myself afterwards if I had let him sacrifice himself. It would have felt like Ostagar to me."

Alistair frowned in confusion at the comparison. Erin could almost see his mind trying to find the connecting dots, and she could see that he was struggling.

"Loghain set up your brother, Cailan. He set him up and then sacrificed him in the battle," she explained. "How would Joining Loghain and then sacrificing him to the archdemon be any different?"

Alistair closed his eyes as he finally understood Erin's reasoning, and he nodded slightly. He could appreciate her desire to be above her enemies. She'd even given Howe a swift death, rather than the long, torturous death that her parents had endured.

"Alistair?"

He opened his eyes to look at her. He then averted his eyes as he saw her curious expression. He knew what she wanted to ask him, and it was obviously something that he didn't want to discuss.

"Why-" she cut herself off, sniffing the air like a Mabari. "Is that stew I can smell?"

Alistair laughed quietly. He nodded as he got to his feet. He walked slowly around her bed and picked up the bowl furthest from her on the table. He sat on the chair and started stirring the stew.

"Would you like me to...?" he questioned.

Erin looked to her hands and, seeing them covered in bandages, nodded to him. She forced herself up, ignoring the several protests from different parts of her body. She propped herself up on her elbows and then strained forward until she was starting to lean on her wrists, as her hands would have been a step too far. She could feel her every part of both arms shaking under the exertion.

A warm hand on her back made her look up in shock. Her arms lost their strength and she would have fallen back onto the bed, had Alistair not been holding her up. She felt the pressure of his hand increase slightly as he gently pushed her forward. She brought her arms forward and leaned on her forearms.

She could see that Alistair had put the bowl down on the seat of the chair as he helped her sit up. With one hand on her back, he used the other to pull up the pillow, so she could lean on that. Once done, he held her shoulders to help her back, but didn't comment as she shuffled back on her own, using her legs for movement. When she was close enough, he carefully eased her back to rest against the pillow and the bed's headrest.

Erin shifted to make herself more comfortable, which entailed tucking her legs beneath her. When she was settled, she noticed Alistair had picked the bowl again and was waiting for her. He had pulled the chair in closer to her.

And then, seeing that she was ready, he lifted the spoon and filled it with stew. He blew on it slightly to ensure it was cool, and he offered it to Erin, which she took gratefully. As she was eating the mouthful, he took a spoonful from himself, seemingly unbothered that he was using the same spoon. Although, she wasn't bothered by that either.

They carried on like that for a while in a comfortable silence. However, Erin kept looking at him with the expression that was saying that she had questions, which he did not want to answer.

"Why am I still alive?" she suddenly asked after she'd swallowed.

Alistair swallowed uncomfortably, and put the spoon down. He laid the bowl down on the table and then rested his elbows on his knees. He held his hands as if in prayer, and pressed his forefingers against his lips, his thumbs tucked under his chin. He was still for a moment as he thought of his answer.

"When... I left the Landsmeet, I went straight to the docks," he started. "I bought a ticket for a ship to leave Ferelden. I didn't care where I went, as long as it... wasn't here. The ship was due to leave later in the day, so I had time to kill."

"What happened?" Erin asked.

"Morrigan happened," he replied. "She came looking for me..."

"Oh?" Erin frowned. "Morrigan told me that she wouldn't see me kill myself. I'd assumed that she'd left for... somewhere not affected by the Blight."

"She came looking for me," Alistair repeated. "She told me that I was being a fool and that, if I loved you a mere fraction of how much you loved me, I would turn around and go back. I said... so many things to her. I told her that you didn't need me, that you would be fine without me, and that you would have your happy ending without a spare thought for me."

Alistair chewed his lip slightly before continuing.

"She spat at me, saying that you would have nothing but a lonely death when you faced the archdemon. I didn't understand what she was talking about, and she told me that for the archdemon to die, its essence had to enter the Grey Warden who killed it. She told me that the Warden would die as well, and that you had driven me away so that you could strike the final blow. I... I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that you would do something like that, but I knew it was true."

"I can't believe she did that," Erin whispered.

"I asked her, even if she was telling the truth, how me going back would make things any easier. She told me to speak to Arl Eamon, if I didn't believe her," Alistair continued.

"Did you?" Erin asked.

"No, he'd already left for Redcliff," Alistair shook his head. "But, I saw you, briefly, as you were leaving. The way you walked, the way everyone mirrored that, I could tell that something was wrong. I believed Morrigan then, and I asked her what she was proposing."

Alistair fell silent. His face showed a great amount of discomfort as he seemingly replayed a memory across his mind. He shuddered involuntarily at whatever it was. His reactions had peaked Erin's curiosity.

"What did she propose?" she urged.

"Umm... I, uh...." Alistair stalled. "I'm... not sure if I should... I mean, I'm not sure if you want to, uh.... I don't think you really want to know."

"What was her offer?" Erin asked, her voice stronger and stern.

"She, uh... offered a way to save you," he shrugged uneasily. "She said that it would prevent any Grey Warden from dying."

"And, how was she going to do that?" Erin pressed.

Alistair looked at her with a pleading look, but found her stonewalling him. She wanted an answer, and she wasn't going to drop the subject until she had it.

"She... said that there was a way to attract the archdemon's soul, to a vessel that would be able to absorb the soul and not die," he explained.

"And this vessel would be...?"

"A..." Alistair swallowed difficultly. "A child, which would be born with the taint."

"Be born with the taint? What does that mean?" Erin frowned.

"It... it means that there had to be a... an unborn child, with the taint in it, had to be present when the archdemon died," he summed up.

"Unborn..." Erin trailed off as her face fell in shock.

She could see Alistair squirm under her gaze. His unease was all the proof she needed, but she could hardly believe what she had come up when she put the pieces together.

"You... you had... sex... with Morrigan?!" she sputtered.

Alistair turned red as she spoke. He hid his face in his hands, cringing as he waited for her to start shouting and screaming at him, calling him unfaithful, and many other cruel but well deserved words.

His head shot up in surprise when she started laughing. Erin was crying and she had to gasp for breath. It took her several seconds to calm herself down, but when she did, she smiled at him.

"It seems like we'll do anything for each other, doesn't it?" she asked, still giggling.

Alistair smiled in relief at her reaction, glad that she wasn't upset. But, he'd been fooled before.

"So, you're...?"

"Alistair, I love you. I drove you away to save you," Erin noted. "I would have gladly given my life if it meant that you would live happily, even if that meant that you'd spend the rest of your life hating me."

"Erin," Alistair hissed urgently, lunging forward to hold his love's face. "I.... I could never hate you. I would die without you! I could never hate you!"

Tears finally fell down Alistair's face as he vainly attempted to wipe away Erin's. He reached a hand round to the back of her head and pulled her towards him. She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his shoulder as he stroked her hair. He whispered his promises into her ear, assuring her that he loved her, and could never hate her.

From the doorway, Leliana wiped a tear from her eye and raced back down the hallway. She had people to talk to.


End file.
